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They’re out there, I tell myself.
Despite the silence that trails me as I pass people—despite their pitying looks—I can tell they think we won’t find them in one piece.
Like hell.
We will.
I will, or I’ll die trying.
Warren and Haley Ford look just as wrecked as I feel. Can’t blame them when Tara’s their niece and they’ve been through this song and dance once before.
Warren’s talking to Langley, bent over a cardboard box stacked with steaming fresh paper cups from The Nest. Some of the horrible dread in my chest eases when I see them.
Sure, the part-timers could’ve dropped off the coffee supplies, but I know they didn’t.
It’s too much like Fliss to be there making sure everyone has the caffeine rush they need to get through the day.
I head over to steal another cup, and nod at Langley.
“Thanks for bringing these out.”
“Miss Randall insisted,” he says, giving me a hangdog look that I think means sympathy. “She wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She’s okay.
Just like that, I can breathe again and focus fully on Eli.
The call goes out a minute later, and we all spread off in a branching pattern, fanning out and slowly beating the brush to our assigned points on the map.
Over and over again voices call Eli! Tara!
They grow smaller and quieter as people fade deeper into the woods. They’re just background noise, though in the back of my mind I’m alert for the sound of my phone chiming with good news. Or better, a distant voice belting out We found ’em!
No.
Nothing.
Only the creak of rustling brush, leaves crunching underfoot, small animals darting through the woods as my noisy passing startles them out of their hiding spots.
I catch sight of a fleet-footed rabbit, just the white of its tail and the underside of its paws. I wish like hell critters could talk.
Have you seen my son and his friend?
Can you show me where?
In mocking answer, the sky overhead rumbles.
I look up in disbelief.
It’s not fucking fair.
We’ve only been at it for a little more than an hour.
In no time, the clear morning blue turns a mottled grey-white, giving way to sooty darkness that’s closing in too fast.
Lightning cracks across the sky with an echoing boom and the rain starts a minute later.
Shit!
It’s cold running down the back of my neck, soaking my clothes and cutting me to the bone. I’m shivering, but I’ve had worse. I’ll be damned if I’m stopping now.
Moving will keep me warm, and as long as I’m focused on how miserably cold I am, I’m not dwelling on all the terrible things that could happen to my son, letting my imagination run wild and go racing away from me faster than that rabbit into the brush.
I feel like I’ve been out here for days.
When I glance at my phone again, only a few hours have passed, my steps growing slower and heavier as I fight my way through deepening mud, raising my voice to call Eli’s name.
I’m almost to the far end of my grid, and then I’m supposed to hang west and trace the perimeter, before zigzagging back and forth, up and down, making sure I cover every last inch of dirt in this space without overlooking a single thing.
I’m no longer human, just a machine running on desperate inertia.
Just a father facing every dad’s darkest nightmare, and swearing I’ll be dead before I give up without bringing him home alive. Today.
As I’m pulling my compass out, my phone vibrates.
Langley.
I swipe it several times, fighting against the water beading on the screen, cursing in frustration. My heart threatens to stop as I finally hit the icon to answer and nearly glue the phone to my ear.
“Sheriff? Did you find them?” I gasp.
“Unfortunately not,” Langley says, and he actually sounds sorry, to his credit. He’s a good guy, just not the smartest or the most competent. Even so, he’s doing his damnedest. “This rain’s getting dangerous, Mr. Charter. People are gonna be stumbling into sinkholes and breaking bones if they don’t get washed away first in a mudslide. I can’t risk anybody slipping and falling into a damn ravine. I’m gonna have to call the search party in. I’m sorry. We can’t risk more injuries or loss of life.”
The harsh fuck under my breath tastes like a gunshot.
Closing my eyes and rubbing my temples, I know what I want to say.
Trouble is, I know he’s right.
I know.
I don’t have to like it.
I also don’t have to listen.
“Go ahead, bring ’em in,” I say quietly. “I’m staying.”
“Mr. Charter, I don’t think that’s wise. If you’ll just pack it in for a few hours, the storm might pass, and we’ll see if we can get right back at it by nightfa—”
“No. You warned me, and that’s fair enough,” I clip off. “I know the dangers. Look, I won’t put anyone else in danger for my family’s sake, but you’ve gotta understand—I’m not leaving my son. You’ve done your duty. Anything that happens to me, that’s my problem.”
